Immortal

"Zane! Hurry up! You're going to be late for you're first day of soccer camp!"

"I'm coming... when does it start again?"

"In ten minutes," scolded my mother as I flew down the stairs.

I grabbed my cleats, shin pads, socks and a bottle of Gatorade and shoved it in a bag. Soccer is my favorite sport. I used to play it everyday with my dad... until he died in a car accident. Shaking off the memory, I threw the bag over his shoulder, spun on my heels, and jumped out the door.

"Finally!" said my mother as she inserted the key into the ignition and I buckled up my seatbelt.

"GO!" I exclamed. And the car peeled into the morning mist, leaving the scent of burnt tire wafting in the air on the court.

After about three minutes, I zipped open his bag. I pulled out a heavy, leatherbound book. On the last day of school, me and a kid in my class named Nick collided. Our stuff got all mixed up, and we didn't have enough time to completely sort through the whole pile of stuff that had scattered onto the floor. So we each picked up what looked like our's. Later on, when I was on my bus, I realized I had taken Nick's book, and Nick had taken mine. I couldn't open it because of the lock on it. I tried to pry it open, but it didn't work. Examining the book, I turned it over in my hands. It had intricate designs and a wierd language on it. I looked at the letters on the front. They were peeling away from age. It read:

Th_ Bo_k of Ab__h_m the M_g_

I didn't understand it. I blew away the dust to reveal a couple more letters, and then guessed the rest.

"The Book of... of Ab, Abrahm... Abraham, the Book of Abraham the Mag... Mage? The Book of Abraham the Mage?" I whispered. "What is it?" I picked up his mom's laptop and opened it up. "Mom, what's the password?"

"Guess."

"Hmm... I give up."

"Isn't it obvious?"

"...Oh!" I stared at the keypad, and typed a six- lettered word.

J-U-L-I-U-S

The laptop beeped, and then the screen swam and blurred, transforming into a photo of Julius... my dad.

I forced a phony smile and looked at where my mother sat. A drop of water dropped onto the arm of her chair. And another one. Followed by another. And then the quiet sound of soft whimpering, sobbing. And then came the crescendo. It grew louder, until I knew she was crying heavily.

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